The Non-Return
by Ramzes
Summary: Five years after the peace between the Iron Throne and Storms' End was restored, a princess was expected to come back to a home that wasn't home anymore. And a Lord Commander is expected to see her there. Part 2 of my Through the Eyes of Others series. WARNING: Spoilers for The World of Ice and Fire.


The Non-Return

_What does he think he's doing? Does he really think that I'll let this one pass?_

Ser Duncan the Tall, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, stared at the tall, slender young girl coming towards him, wondering what had come into Lyonel Baratheon's head. For years, he had been refusing Aegon's requests to send Rhaelle to court to visit – would he resort to an outright deception now that he had finally run out of excuses? Everyone could see the lie. Who was this girl?

"Ser Duncan."

He blinked, staring hard. Was it possible that she was really Rhaelle? Now, when she was close, he recognized the purple eyes he knew so well, the lines of the face contorting in eagerness for him to grab her and throw her high in the air, the smiling mouth that had once proclaimed him the bestest knight ever and appropriating him for her own. But the face was no longer eager. The mouth was not smiling. Instead, she uttered some worn out, meaning nothing phrases of welcome, no different from the ones Lady Baratheon had greeted him with.

Five years. It felt like five centuries. He could only hope that during their journey to King's Landing, he'd manage to thaw her, make her remember how things had used to be. Aegon and Betha, and the rest of them, they were expecting her so eagerly. It would be a harsh blow for them to get such treatment.

In the great hall, he looked around, hoping to get a look at Ormund Baratheon. If Rhaelle had changed so much, how had he changed? He had to see him, make sure for himself that he did not treat Rhaelle disgracefully, make her pay in any way for something that was not her fault. But of course, there were only four chairs at the high table, one of them meant for Rhaelle who took it stony-faced. Duncan noticed that Lord Lyonel avoided looking at her, as if he was ashamed or… scared. The Laughing Storm? Scared of a young girl?

Maybe he was scared of what Rhaelle would tell her family about his treatment of her when she went back to King's Landing. And he probably had a solid reason to feel so. A sunny little girl who liked everything and found a reason to be cheerful in anything about her could not have turned into this cold young lady without some… help.

And still, there was something of Rhaelle's old smile as she watched her goodfather-to-be raising his goblet in the traditional welcome to his guest. Lady Margrat caught it as well because looked at the girl warily and asked, "What did you do?"

Rhaelle's smile widened. "Why," she said. "Would I do something?"

Lady Baratheon had no chance to answer because abruptly, her husband started spluttering and spitting, his face swiftly turning red. His goblet thumped against the table, splashing red all around. When he finally regained control, he hissed, "We need to talk, Rhaelle. In the next room."

Rhaelle rose and followed, fear and amusement fighting for dominance. Their footsteps echoed in the long hallway but the sound stopped abruptly with the slamming of a door.

Hesitantly, the Lord Commander dipped his finger into Lord Lyonel's goblet and licked it cautiously. His face contorted, he wanted to wash his mouth with a bucket of water to get rid of the taste. _She must have poured a whole saltern in there_, he thought. And the Laughing Storm had taken a large sip.

Lady Magrat sighed. "What is it?" she asked.

"Salt," Ser Duncan replied, and she sighed again.

"I should have known."

He didn't know what to say. She wasn't prone to conversations either and the palpable tension made everyone else in the hall to keep silent, so the rumble of the Laughing Storm's angry voice from the next chamber was audible, although they could not make the words. But when Rhaelle started yelling, her words were quite clear. "I am only sorry this was the first time I thought of it," she claimed. "That way, you'll remember me even after you get rid of me. No matter who your goodaughter will be, at least I won't be forgotten!"

"I am not getting rid of you!" he roared back. "I am sending you to your parents who wished to see you. You'll come back as soon as…"

"They wished to see me years ago, if memory serves me right! You had no scruples refusing them. Why would you indulge them now if not because you're tired of me? You are ready to part with me as readily as they were. How many homes am I supposed to leave? I don't want to go back there, they just sold me off to repair Duncan's offense and anyway, how am I to know that they don't have another lord to appease now? And you don't even care! Who knows, you might have found another wife for Ormund – someone you can _trust_."

"You're mad! I've suspected it for a while but now, I know it for sure. Is this any way to behave with…"

Lady Margrat nodded at the servants to bring the first meal in. She seemed to have shut her ears for the quarrel raging nearby, her only comment being, "If they don't mind eating their dishes cold, that's their right."

Despite his best efforts, Ser Duncan found out that he could no longer make the words from the next room. The quarrelers had gone quieter, probably because they had screamed themselves hoarse.

It was some time later, when he was being shown out of the hall and to his chambers that he made their words again. Rhaelle's voice was now soft but not quite pleading. "Do you promise?"

"Of course I do," the Laughing Storm replied. "I give you my sworn word, if your father dares do anything but return you to us in due time, I'll raise my banners once again. You know I can."

A pause. And then, Rhaelle's voice again. "Fine. We've got an agreement, like men."

A booming laughter. "Indeed. Sometimes, I swear you're more of a man than many men I know… and then I'm glad you're a girl, so you can wed Ormund."

"My lord," Rhaelle said. "I don't want to insult either Ormund or Lady Margrat but should I wed a Baratheon, it has to be you."

This time, the stormy laughter brought a mix of comfort and regret to the Lord Commander's heart. He was happy that she had found her place here. He was. But the realization that this place meant separating her from them forever, in every aspect, could not be cause for anything but pain.

* * *

><p>"Rhaelle is coming back."<p>

"I know," the King replied.

"But _Rhaelle is coming back_," Betha repeated, as if he were stupid. "Shaera, what's going on? Can you see them still?"

The young woman turned to smile at her mother before returning to her post at the window, her nose pressed against the glass. "They are still climbing the hill," she said. "Can't they go faster?"

"Perhaps. If they can fly," Jaehaerys jested. Both women turned to glare at him and he raised his hands in defense. "Fine, fine, forget that I said it." He paused. "All will be fine," he added softly. "You'll see."

Shaera nodded eagerly. Their mother looked away.

Finally, the clamour of arrival made them all look at the door. It opened to reveal the Lord Commander. Alone.

"Where is she?" the Queen demanded, making a few steps towards him before halting, unsure of what to do.

He could not quite look at her. "She refused to come," he said to his boots.

"She refused?" the King repeated sharply. "And you just left her to…"

"What should I have done, grab her over her screams?" Ser Duncan snapped. "You do it! I am tired of doing your dirty work for you. I don't seize unwilling girls, a king's command or not."

As brutally honest as he was, such outbursts were not typical of him. A shocked silence descended over the solar until he finally broke it himself. "I am sorry," he said. "It has not been an easy time. There was an accident…" He paused. "Lord Lyonel's daughter is dead," he finally said.

Someone drew a sharp breath.

"Dead?" Shaera gasped. "How can she be dead? She was…"

He looked down once again. "She came to Storm's End to bid Rhaelle farewell before we left," he said. "There was an accident, a fire in a secluded yard. Washerwomen kept their small children there, in the barracks, while they were doing their job. I still don't know how the fire broke out but when I reached the place, the iron of the hinges had melted, sealing the door shut. The only way to reach the children was to climb to the wall from the outer side and then lower someone with a rope. She and I, we were among the first one who arrived there. I would have gone myself but the rope wouldn't support my weight." He raised a hand in front of his eyes, as if it was the first time he realized how big it was. "People were afraid, the fire was raging everywhere. But she… she ran to me and said that she'd be the one to go down. I didn't want to let her go."

"But you did, at the end?"

Jaehaerys' question was not an accusation but it must have sounded this way to the Lord Commander because he started justifying himself. "There was no time to wait. The fire was fierce, there was some tar spilled over… The children were crying…" He swallowed. "She tied them to the rope and I pulled them one at a time. Then, I yelled at her to tie herself but she ran to the last barrack, she wanted to check whether there were any children left, babies who could not run out. When she emerged, the entire yard was burning. The first flame caught at her hair…"

His voice broke again and this time, he did not even try to summon words again.

The King stood with a tight mouth and set face. The Queen's hands covered her own face, so no one could see her reaction. Daeron was shaking his head, as if he could not fathom what he was hearing. Duncan was staring at the Lord Commander, his lips forming words but no sound would come. He looked as if he wanted to shake the Lord Commander and make him take the words back, admit that he had made the whole story up for some spiteful reason of his.

"Were there any children left there?" Shaera finally asked. She was clinging to Jaehaerys' hand, the violet of her eyes veiled with sheen of tears.

Ser Duncan shook his head and she let out a short cry.

"Do you think she wanted to die?" she whispered, finally.

"No," Duncan snapped but she did not look at him. _Of course_ he wouldn't want to think that Jocelyn might have wanted it.

"No," the Lord Commander said. "She was so young and beautiful. I've never seen another woman as beautiful as her. She was a mother to healthy children, well beloved in the Stormlands. She had everything to live for. She just couldn't let the children die, that was all." He paused. "Afterwords, Rhaelle said that she was too upset to travel."

He did not tell them of the bargain Rhaelle had struck with Lyonel Baratheon – in fact, he still had no idea what she had promised in that business of men. He did not tell them that she had not wanted to come, although the look in Duncan's eyes made him think that he might have some idea. But he could not help but wonder whether all the efforts to repair the broken relationship would end like this, coinciding with blood and death.


End file.
